What our Fa­ther does is well;
Blessèd truth His child­ren tell!
Though He send, for plen­ty, want,
Though the har­vest-store be scant,
Yet we rest up­on His love,
Seeking bet­ter things above.

What our Fa­ther does is well;
Shall the will­ful heart re­bel?
If a bless­ing He with­hold
In the field, or in the fold,
Is it not Him­self to be
All our store eter­nal­ly?

What our Fa­ther does is well;
Though He sad­den hill and dell,
Upward yet our prais­es rise
For the strength His Word sup­plies;
He has called us sons of God,
Can we mur­mur at His rod?

What our Fa­ther does is well;
May the thought with­in us dwell;
Though nor milk nor ho­ney flow
In our bar­ren Ca­naan now,
God can save us in our need,
God can bless us, God can feed.

Therefore un­to Him we raise
Hymns of glo­ry, songs of praise;
To the Fa­ther, and the Son,
And the Spir­it, Three in One,
Honor, might, and glo­ry be
Now, and through eter­ni­ty.